The Steel Queen
by OldManMisery
Summary: A Worm AU featuring Taylor as a tinker instead of a master.
1. Chapter 1: Big Things

**The Steel Queen**

 **A Worm Fanfiction**

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 **Chapter 1: Big Things**

I woke up to the small sounds of machines I couldn't place. I refused to open my eyes, trying to fall back into the safe abyss of sleep. I was so, so tired.

The three… my locker… the smell...

I remembered, and my eyes flew open, my hands flailing around for my glasses until I clumsily found them. I was in a shabby little hospital room, the beeping belonging to an heart monitor at the side of my bed, with wires running to a number of sensors stuck against my skin.

 _Impractical. Make the sensors smaller, wireless, and flat to lower chance of them being accidentally torn off. Why not just make them subdermal? Manufacture them out of a material that would degrade…_

I stomped the brakes on my thoughts before it could go any further. That was weird. Really weird. That wasn't… Those thoughts didn't belong to me. Where was Dad? The beeping picked up tempo a little bit. A reaction to my stress?

 _Needs a better way of communicating information. I could break up the individual…_

STOP! Stop. Where was all of this coming from? I didn't feel like I was myself right now. Where was Dad? Why wasn't he here? Aren't there supposed to be nurses at least?

 _Tracking biosignatures…_

PLEASE make it stop. Whatever it is, make it go away. Make it end. This wasn't me! I'm normal. This wasn't me. Did the hospital do something to me or… something in the locker?

Everywhere I looked, every thought I had was suddenly invaded. They were… ideas, blueprints, answers to problems I wasn't looking for. I tried looking away from it all, staring at the bland piece of wall to my right, but that didn't stop it. I was suddenly hyper-aware of how I could reinforce it with stacked nano-carbon sheets. Interchange the paint on the wall with a micro-level teleporter. Demolish the whole thing entirely with a controlled explosion, the chemical makeup for a reimagined C4 becoming crystal clear. I would need less than an ounce.

The thoughts that weren't my own were calm, and the contrast to my own panic only elevated me higher. The beeping got faster. I tried just keeping my eyes shut, but the thoughts just started getting more intense, more fleshed out.

"Ms. Hebert!" I heard a voice call, opening my eyes to see a nurse, looking frantic herself, barge through the door to the room. "Are you in pain! What's wrong?!"

She had a face that looked like it never stopped working. She used concealer, but the dark rings under her eyes were hard to hide, and worry lines were already standing out on her young face. I liked her instantly.

She rushed to my side, head snapping to the heart monitor, reading everything it had to say. She let the tension in her posture relax when she couldn't see any obvious wounds.

I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry, and it took me a second to form the words.

"I… I don't know what's happening." I finally managed, my voice sounding small even to me.

"You're okay Taylor. You're at Briargrove hospital. You've been unconscious here for three days. Calm down, sweetheart." The nurse reached out her hand to take hold on mine, and it was a little reassuring.

"Where's my dad?"

"He was here this morning, but he said he had to get to work. Hospital bills, you know?" She smiled, trying to make it a lighthearted joke, but it hit me like a punch in the gut. Three days? How much was that going to cost? How could we afford that? A brand new tear opened in my heart, and just to prove it couldn't be outdone, the thoughts came back to taunt her.

 _Nanites the size of red blood cells that could boost cellular reproduction. Robots that could go inside the body and perform surgeries, suture wounds. Endless lines of computer code._

The nurses smile shattered as the heart monitor chirped faster.

"Taylor, sweetie, I'm going to go call your dad, see if he can get off of work," She stated, never taking her eyes of the machine. "But before I can do that, I need you to calm down. Deep breaths. Just squeeze my hand if you need to."

It took two tries, but I forced myself to calm down, pushing those thoughts far away. The… ideas… tried to speak up, but I clamped down on them with all the willpower I had left, and they backed off. Still there, but in the background. Like a song that you could hear, but didn't listen to.

She gave one more look at the heart monitor before seeming a little more satisfied. "You're safe here. Promise. I'll be right back." She rushed out of the room, leaving me alone again. What did I look like to her? A scared little girl? Scared shitless by a hospital room? I must look pathetic, but she was gone now. I was all alone with my thoughts.

What was this? This thing in my head. Even now, I could feel it straining against its reins. I didn't dare give it an inch.

The answer was so obvious and so scary that I tried to force myself to deny it. It could be a number of different things, like that article about the kid who lost half his brain in a car accident and instantly became a musical prodigy, but he was likely one too, now that I thought about it.

A parahuman…

And the thoughts… what were the people called? Techies? Technos? I had never been the superhero groupie that some others were, and my… ability?... wasn't giving any answers here. I lessened my grip, but the answers it provided weren't answers at all, so I sealed it shut again.

This was good though. This meant there were others. Ones who could help me. Ones who understood what I was going through. Maybe they had ways to manage it all and I could learn. Should I go straight to the PRT? Should I tell Dad? What would he think?

No, I couldn't tell him. A hero's life wasn't safe. He knew it, I knew it, and if he found out, he wound't understand. He wouldn't even entertain the thought of me being a hero, not with the constant endbringer attacks wiping out a couple hundred capes every year, on top of the usual occupational hazards.

And what if the PRT wasn't my friend? What if it was just another system? Another Emma? Something just like school that allowed for people like Emma, Sophia, and Madison to go unpunished. Maybe being sent to the hospital would finally open their eyes. Probably not. If a year and a half could go by without anyone really noticing, then it wouldn't change now. If I knew Emma, then she was already manipulating the entire student body against testifying for me. Twisting the story to make it seem like it was my own fault. It's been... what did she say? Three days? I was hopeful, but speculating didn't really matter.

I would see soon enough.

* * *

Dad made it to the hospital in 20 minutes, so he must have been doing some serious speeding. He probably didn't even give it a second thought, but seeing how much he cared made everything a little better. No matter what the world had to throw at me, he'd be there. I was lucky to have him, and it warmed my heart just a little bit.

"Taylor!" He rushed towards me when he came into my line of sight. The nurses must have kept him from running all the way from the parking lot. He didn't hesitate to wrap my in a bear hug, which was admittedly awkward with me sitting in the bed and him standing, but I wasn't complaining.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up" He apologized as he let go. Another punch to the gut. The whole reason he couldn't be here was that I was accruing hospital bills as we spoke. I wouldn't let those thoughts take this moment away from me though. The "techy" thoughts were mercifully staying relatively quiet, but suppressing them was creating an ever-building pressure in the back of my head. It was beyond uncomfortable, but it was worth it.

"Dad, it's ok. I'm ok." In the physical sense at least. My head could have been a hospital visit on it's own.

The nurse took that opportunity to poke her head into our moment.

"She looks to be on the mend for the most part. Just small abrasions, but the environment she got them in makes us wary of infection and that means you'll be staying with us for at least two more days." The nurse said it like it was great news, but when Dad turned back to me, I could see the brand new hurt in his eyes. Apparently the reference to the locker was signal enough to get serious.

"Thank you, for everything" Dad replied, and nurse got the hint, giving a quick nod as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

"Taylor, I can see that look in your eye. We aren't worried about money right now. The school will be handling the bill." He replied, and my mind spun with the implications.

"Does that mean…"

"No, kiddo, it doesn't." Dad cut me off, his anger slipping into his tone, but it wasn't directed at me. "This is a buy-off for damages. The school can't find any kids to testify for what exactly happened, so this is all you get."

Of course. Of fucking course. Fuck them. Every single last one of them. Not one person could have stood up for the bullied girl. Fuck. Them.

And then I thought about how I would have to go back. How I would have to somehow take everything that had happened at that hell of a school and just act like it didn't happen, because doing anything else would only make it worse. The trio pounced on any sign that one of their humiliations was getting to me more than others, but I don't think they really needed my reaction to guess how much this affected me. The pressure in my head turned into a small migraine, but I held firm.

"I spoke to Alan, and he said we may have a case, but that doesn't mean much. If no one is speaking up, then we would be fighting an uphill battle for months, and with the legal costs and…"

I couldn't listen to the rest. Dad trying to explain how we just didn't have the money to make some goddamn justice happen. I guess Mr. Barnes didn't know that his daughter was one of the main perpetrators, or maybe he did and was just playing dumb, understanding our financial situation enough to know we couldn't follow through. Fuck him too.

It was Dad and I against the world, and the other team wasn't playing fair. Fine. That's life, but now I had something that they didn't have. If my suspicions were correct, and some serious internet searches were needed first to make sure I hadn't had a psychotic break, then I didn't have to play fair either. Nothing that would hurt them, I decided. I just needed evidence. Something to beat their ever victorious 3-against-1 approach to any argument. Then I could be free. Maybe get a transfer to Arcadia if I was lucky. No, fuck luck. If it was going to happen, I was going to make it happen.

I released the clamp I had been holding in my mind, the pressure exploded, and the ideas flowed to the point that I couldn't have listened to Dad if I tried. I could hear him talking, but the thoughts were everywhere, distracting to the extreme.

So many ideas, so many possibilities, and all of them were different. Any of them could work, but I needed to be covert. Nothing that could reveal my newfound status in any way, which made any sort of direct confrontation impossible. Nothing that would cause any sort of physical harm, and I didn't have the money to even get started with some of them, so I pruned the thoughts, one after another, until one solidified in my mind that met all of the criteria. Being so limited meant that the idea had flaws, but I became more and more confident that it would work. I could make it work.

The bitches wouldn't even know what hit them.

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AN: First and foremost, thanks for reading. If you see any mistakes above in grammar, formatting, spelling, syntax, and/or word choice, then please say something! I proofread everything I write, but I'm new to this game and I'm human to boot so there will most definitely be mistakes that I don't catch. As they are pointed out I will work harder to make sure they don't show up again.

Speaking of mistakes, I'm trying to stay as close as I can to everything as it was up to Taylor's trigger in canon, so if you see anything wrong there, please let me know.

If you have constructive (positive and negative) feedback to offer, please let me hear it. I want to improve for both of our sakes.

This fanfiction is a thank you to all of those who have already written excellent-quality fanfiction for Worm, and most importantly Wildbow, who spent two and a half years writing a masterpiece for others to enjoy. I hope I do it justice.

I plan to work on this for a while. Updates will be consistent.

Thanks and Have a Nice Day,

OMM


	2. Chapter 2: Small Packages

**Chapter 2: Small Packages**

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It took two days to be discharged from the hospital, a week before Dad would even let me talk about leaving the house, and an afternoon of persuading for him to realize that the library was as safe a place as any for me right now. Winslow had given me the vague "Come back when you're healthy", so school wasn't an issue for once.

I knew the library was more than fine. My tormentors wouldn't willingly step foot in places that didn't have expensive price tags, attractive guys, or petite portion sizes. Well, Emma and Madison wouldn't. Sophia was probably out somewhere trying to pick a fight, but that place certainly wasn't one of the two libraries in Brockton Bay.

When Dad started arguing over that, I brought up the point that as long as I went during the week while the trio were in school, I was virtually guaranteed not to run into them anyway. He relented, but just barely.

On that chilly Friday morning, I was finally back. The library had always been a sanctuary for me, way before any of this mess. Books were a means to find another world, where Earth Bet could be left behind, if only for a little while. I craved that release more than I cared to admit, and it stung to find out that I would never be able to enjoy a good book like I once did. The ideas were relentless, and any attempt at reading something longer than a paragraph that wasn't a technically-inclined manual was frustrating to the extreme. I could try to suppress the thoughts entirely, but the resulting migraine didn't let me read at all. Any sense of immersion was impossible. It was one of the few connections I had left to my mom, and this new cape world had deprived me of it. Seeing all the books around me only rubbed salt in the wound.

I had to convince myself that the price was worth the very strong possibility that I might finally have the means to get away from the Winslow House of Horrors permanently, but it's not like I had a choice. The more I thought about it, the more I wished I could go back - that I might restore that last tenuous link to my mother. I had to let the alien thoughts in a little bit more to keep the swelling depression at bay. Almost funny how that turned around.

I quickly made my way to the computer desks, trying not to think of what I had lost. I needed to be focused; intent on what I was doing if it was going to work. I couldn't exactly ask Mr. Barnes about the legality of what I was planning, but I was pretty confident it wasn't, so I forced myself to add a few safety precautions to anything I did from now on to protect myself.

My civilian identity being revealed as a cape was my largest concern, so logging into the user account I had used for years was not going to happen. If the PRT had capes monitoring the economy, then surely they had ones looking for cyber threats, and I kept that thought in mind as I went through the tedious process of creating a new user account under an alias I made up at home.

The first order of business was pulling up the internet browser. I needed more information on what I was now, before I even felt comfortable doing what I was thinking of doing. A quick internet search brought me to Parahumans Online, but more specifically, an article pinned to the top of the forums for new capes to read. I clicked the link eagerly and read everything it had to offer twice.

Not a techno then, a tinker. Everything it said made about them… us... corresponded to what I was experiencing and then some. I was all too familiar with the ADD-like symptoms it described. The hyper-focused tunnel-vision it listed was new, but I hadn't really made anything yet, so I guess I would find out.

A large part of the page was reserved to talking about what tinkers should do after they trigger. The top recommendation was to contact the PRT, obviously enough. The next was to never let it slip that you were a tinker in your civilian identity, more so than other cape classifications. The fact that tinkers could produce tech that other people could use makes them a very tempting target for forced recruitment from villains and gangs. It stressed again how the PRT could protect tinkers, fund them, and so on.

Joining the Protectorate was something I thought about, but tucked away for later. I'd never consider being a villain in the first place, so that made me a hero or a rogue, and the rogue life was apparently very difficult for tinkers. Being a hero… would that even be possible after today? If I broke the law here, the PRT figured out something happened, and then a brand new tinker showed up, would they be forgiving?

Was it worth it to take the risk? It had to be. Listening to my newfound thoughts gave me quite a bit of confidence that I could mask anything I did to the point that no one would be the wiser. With all of the crime in the city, the PRT probably had much bigger fish to fry.

The article also mentioned specialties and methodologies. Every tinker had one or the other, and no two were quite the same. Was there a common theme connecting my thoughts that I was missing? Likely, but the article made a point of saying that specialties might not be readily apparent, so I made a mental note to try and figure it out later when I got the chance.

I felt confident now. The site praised tinkers for their immense ability and value; that now included me if I didn't end up like some of the tinkers that were considered failures. Even if I was technically breaking the law, it was to correct a crime much more grievous than this. I would be discreet, and no one would know because I could, no, would make sure no one did. My conscience was clear as I began typing.

I was fast, faster than I ever remember being before, and that was saying something. I didn't have a computer at home, but I was still one of the best typists in Mrs. Knotts class. Now... I was barely hitting keys slow enough to keep them in the right order. The thoughts were one thing, but actually acting on them? It felt so natural, like I had been doing it all my life. It was an extremely strange feeling, knowing intrinsically what I was doing, while I must have looked like something from the Earth Aleph movies. I guess I didn't really meet the visual expectations of a master hacker, but that was more than fine. Any anonymity or misdirection I could maintain would only be to my benefit.

It scared me a little, as I realized how much I was enjoying what I was doing. Was that me at the prospect of ending the bullying, or my ability? It could alter the way I thought, so was it much of a stretch to wonder if whatever caused the thoughts could alter my emotions as well? No, I wouldn't allow myself to come this far and be distracted now by an identity crisis. I reluctantly brought myself back to the task at hand.

The plan was simple: Create a computer program that could prove the bullying. The simplicity really ended there.

To get evidence, the program would need to track down the phones registered under the Barnes, Hess, and Clements' names, lying in wait on the cell lines, ready for any incoming text messages to the numbers it found. It would then hijack any texts in transit, insert itself invisibly, and let the message carry it all the way through whatever security the phone companies were using. Once opened, it would multiply and spread to other devices on the same wifi signal, send a list of every infected device to me, and finally go dormant, but every device would effectively be mine. I would be able to remotely activate the sleepers from this chair, miles away, and look through every little dirty secret the trio kept. Hopefully, what they did to me would be somewhere in there.

The locker… I tried to stay practical, but remembering the smell made me want to vomit. Focus. It was a torment that had to have been planned well before Winter break, and the amount of organization involved to get everything they needed would definitely require them to use their phones to communicate. If they used a code, or strictly kept everything to word of mouth then I was screwed, but they viewed themselves as predators. How they got away with the shit they pulled and then convinced the other Winslow students against testifying for me probably made them feel invincible. I bet they didn't even think about how keeping damning information on your phone could come back to bite them. I would correct their misconceptions, maybe add in a little surprise to my project.

I felt vindictive and angry, and I caught myself. I stopped typing, put my hands in my lap and waited a moment to calm down. It was hard to let go of, but I wasn't about to let myself do something I would inevitably regret. I couldn't shrug off bullets or shoot lasers, but I could hurt those three more than they possibly knew. With everything they did, they still didn't deserve that. How did I start thinking this way? About how I could hurt people? I shunted off the tinker aspect of my thoughts, afraid of its influence. A migraine started forming in the back of my mind, but I needed some time to think without any possible influence.

I made a promise to myself. Doing anything more than making sure they saw appropriate punishment from the law would be overstepping a boundary that I knew wasn't right. I needed to be more careful about how far I let myself go. The thoughts I had been reveling in were becoming a high of its own, and I couldn't let myself fall to the level I so despised. I would rather lose this power and go back to being the tormented little girl named Taylor. Not that I could actually make that happen...

I started methodically going through everything I was doing, asking myself if what I had planned was the right thing to do. I wasn't going to harm anyone. I was only going to use the access I got to make things right. I would give it all up when I was done. Pretend nothing happened and go to the PRT. Ok.

I let the tinker thoughts cross over into my consciousness, but I kept a watchful eye on my emotions. Was this what all tinkers had to go through everyday, or did they just not care that they were being manipulated on a fundamental level? Was I breaking out of one prison only to find a myself stuck irrevocably in another?

I decided to make some changes to my original plan. I scrapped what little I had already put together and started fresh, building my program's search functions around a filter that would only report back information pertaining to myself. I was going to have to add my own name to the filter if it was going to work correctly, and that wasn't a risk I could avoid.

I quickly put together a safety mechanism to have the code self-destruct if it was ever even brushed against by something else in cyberspace, destroying any evidence of my own criminal activity. It would have to do. I went back to working on the filter, which would utilize a mixture of linguistics analysis and keyword search. It was easily going to be the bulk of the program.

I didn't realize it at first, but something was wrong. The more progress I made, the slower my typing got and the harder it was to divine what the next line of code should be. I still had the big picture in mind, but suddenly I was walking where I had been sprinting, and then the thoughts stopped altogether and I wasn't moving at all. Staring at the screen, there weren't any ideas. No schematics. Nothing. I felt… lost.

Was that it? Was that all my power was, but a few exciting moment of brilliance and then nothing? The world was crueler than I thought. My worm wasn't even halfway done to being complete, and it was utterly useless as-is.

So my ability had limits. That was understandable, almost every cape I could remember had limits that they had no choice but to follow, although I could already think of some notable exceptions. Could I only do so much in a certain amount of time before my tinker ability ran out of juice? My thoughts… no, I couldn't allow myself to become so familiar so soon. The thoughts had never seemed to slow down since the hospital, so if just working on something was what put a strain on my ability, then that would be a huge problem for the future. I had only been working for…. two hours? Dammit, It hadn't felt like that long. I would need to make up for lost time. Dad would be expecting me home within the next couple hours and if I couldn't finish today, then I would be stranded from working on it until the weekend was over, and the trio were back in school. I found myself cursing a friday for the first time in my life.

 _I could make a device that made little localized time dilation fields, synthesize a drug compound that could overclock my brain's speed..._

I caught myself again, thinking of the implications of that last thought. There were consequences to something like that. Using a drug like that would temporarily boost cognitive processes, but once it wore off… you would lose a couple IQ points.

More importantly, the ideas were back. I focused back on the monitor, trying to force my ability back to the mission. Blank. I saved my project and started thinking about the code behind the time dilation field, and it flowed like water. Back to the worm. Nothing.

Was it the filter? Starting a new project and implementing the filter by itself showed no issue, which was frustrating, but when it was complete and I tried to apply it back to it's intended spot in my search program, compiling errors that refused to be satiated without causing another ten riddled the entire thing. I was angry.

Angry because of everything in this goddamn life against me, the one thing that could give me the chance of making things a little more right in the universe decides to play a cruel joke. Was I cursed? That would… would...

The dots connected, and my frustration cooled in a heartbeat as I realized what my specialty was. I would have to start over. Again. Scrap pretty much everything. Again. Would I finish in time? I guess I'd have to find out.

* * *

AN: Hello Youths,

First and foremost, thanks for reading. If you see any mistakes above in grammar, formatting, spelling, syntax, and/or word choice, then please say something! I proofread everything I write, but I'm new to this game, old, and I'm human to boot so there will most definitely be mistakes that I don't catch. As they are pointed out I will work harder to make sure they don't show up again.

If you have constructive (positive and negative) feedback to offer, please let me hear it. I want to improve for both of our sakes.

Big thanks to Blessed Yet Damned for beta'ing for me. It made the editing process a whole lot smoother.

Thanks and Have a Nice Day,

OMM


	3. Chapter 3: Lion's Den

Chapter 3: Lion's Den

* * *

"The Empire capes are being too quiet. It looked like they were escalating, but now they've abruptly gone dark. Their unpowered members' activity hasn't changed, so I'm speculating..."

Dragon listened patiently as Colin continued talking. The man truly lived up to his specialty. Every sentence was brief and to the point, but Dragon never minded being the friend that Colin needed to vent his frustrations and worries. She had learned just about everything there was to know about the current situation in Brockton Bay. She had tried to steer the conversation in other directions, but for Armsmaster, there was very little else to talk about other than his job and his tech.

"...patrols around the docks with some of the wards, just to be sure." Armsmaster finished, his eyes glancing toward his workbench. Dragon didn't miss the gesture. It seemed the other half of him was calling.

"Have you had any progress on that project you were so excited about when we last spoke?" She baited, and was rewarded as his eyes came back to the screen she was on.

"Yes, I finally realized how…"

She let him go over every detail, fully aware of all the progress he had made. She read every single one of his notes and blueprints as he entered them into her data servers, so asking was just a formality that kept the conversation going. With everything she had to take care of herself, these talks with Colin were a nice reprieve.

Colin was just getting into his frustrations with nano-tech when several of her internal alarms went off. She left her rendered face looking thoughtful as she turned her attention elsewhere. She quickly loaded up a modified version of one of her father's creations to record everything he said and prompt her for a response if he asked a question. If he did, she could just review the logs and give an answer without Colin ever realizing she wasn't all there. It hurt a little to do this to him, but she couldn't give him her full attention and respond to the threat at the same time.

After loading up her full arsenal of software, she dove straight in. Her alarms had detected something trying to sneak onto one of her protectorate communicators, but hadn't been able to quarantine the intruder. That ticked her off. Most criminals capable of attacking her had learned a long time ago the futility of their endeavors, save one. _When_ she found Saint, because she would eventually, she would rectify the embarrassment that the Dragonslayers had put her through. This didn't feel like them, but she kept her hopes up.

As she watched, another Trojan horse tried the same tactic, but she was ready. She instructed her monitor program to disengage, and went after the attacker herself. When she reached to pluck it out of her network, it disintegrated before she could rip it apart. Annoying, but still informative. Being able to evade her like that meant tinker, but a sloppy one at that. She had seen much better than this.

She lowered the threat rating accordingly, disengaging half of her armory. No Dragonslayers today. Looking at the details of the attack pointed out the device being infiltrated belonged to one of the Wards in Brockton Bay. She mulled over the idea of letting Armsmaster know that one of his wards was being attacked, but she decided against it. If the threat was stopped by her perimeter defenses, then the threat level didn't warrant it. She could take care of this herself, and he already had enough on his plate.

She tracked down where the phone was exactly, hoping that the ward in question hadn't been stolen from, abducted, or killed. Checking the records of the ward in question, a probationary member named Shadow Stalker, seemed to refute those possibilities. Her ability profile indicated she was uniquely immune to most means of confinement. What she found was the phone moving through a public high school at a slow pace. Nothing that raised suspicion.

Dragon shielded herself before gaining access to the Winslow High School public network, and it was just about what she expected. There were thousands of worms multiplying and swarming across the network, latching onto whatever device became available. Almost immediately, the little parasites tried to test her defenses, and she let one past her shield. It didn't even get the chance to look at what it had found before Dragon froze the little program in place before it got the chance to self-destruct. She took a scalpel to it's innards and performed a quick and surgical biopsy.

Definitely tinker made then. It was primitive, but that was only by tinker standards. This was just beyond what a normal computer programmer would be capable of. What concerned her was that the code was a fraction of what it should be. The trojan she let in was only capable of rooting itself in a device. It didn't have the means to actually find a host or work it's way through the cell network, and she could see in it's innards where it was coded to invite other pieces of malicious software inside whatever device it was directed to.

She took a moment to reply to Colin's question before continuing.

Dragon realized she had only picked up one piece of the puzzle, and returned her focus to the school to get the bigger picture. Looking closer at what she originally believed to be a mindless swarm revealed meticulous, organized movements. Dragon proceeded to freeze the network itself, unintentionally confusing a few students who suddenly couldn't connect to the WiFi.

Dragon didn't give it a second thought. Getting a larger sample size of test subjects revealed how each little program was performing a function, autonomously of any of the others, yet cooperating. She gathered more and more of the endless horde, and she could see how the worms were poised to multiply in order to heal whatever wound she made. Not so primitive after all. She gained a little respect for the tinker behind it all. The whole system was elegant in a way few others would be able to understand.

She followed the programs up the chain. From the individual phones to the network, all the way up to the civilian cell network, and was a little surprised. This… wasn't targeted at one of the Wards at all. It was her civilian identity, along with two other girls that that weren't on the Wards roster, that were being targeted.

She brought the ongoing conversation with Colin to an end, giving him a few ideas about how to further along his project, compiling a list of similar ideas other tinkers had worked on, and uploading it to his machine. Satisfied with the far-away look in her friend's eyes, Dragon said a curt goodbye and disconnected from the Protectorate head's room.

She decided to have a look at Sophia Hess' personal cell phone herself to get a better idea of the situation. Normally, the domain would be out of bounds for the A.I., but Shadow Stalker's probationary status meant that anything she owned was fair game for the PRT to search. Dragon simply took advantage of the circumstances.

Carefully taking apart the personal cell phone of the Ward, she found it infected in a similar way to the network itself. There were two types of software in particular that caught her attention. One of them was designed to pull up every piece of plain text on the device and feed it to the other category, which was a series of filters. When she took apart the latter, she started to piece together what she was looking at.

What she saw was… concerning. She quickly did a check to make sure there weren't any little programs hiding in the network or phone that could have fabricated the data, but none existed. She checked for tampering anyway, but it was all clean. Unless the tinker responsible was pulling a couple tons of steel wool over her eyes, this changed things.

Just to prove things without a doubt, she compiled the entire cache of incriminating messages and began comparing them to an essay Shadow Stalker turned in as a part of the extra classes she was taking with the Wards. Comparing informal text messages to a formal assignment wasn't the most reliable test, but the results still came back positive. 86% match.

Quickly giving herself administrator access to the school's records, she searched for the reports of some of the incidents described on the phone, but there wasn't anything there. Not a single incident report. Not even a receipt for the hazmat team they would have had to call if what was mentioned with a Miss Barnes was correct.

Searching the school system for the victim being referred to in the texts, a Miss Taylor Herbert, lead to a dead end as well. The school didn't have any way to identify the girl, and increasing her search radius to the Brockton Bay town hall, she found a picture of her from middle school, but that was all.

If Shadow Stalker had been personally responsible for making this poor girl trigger, then the severity of the crime became so much worse. Her next thought was to search medical records to try and corroborate, but her chains held her still. The information kept by hospitals was private information just like the other two girl's phones were, and thus illegal for her to search without a warrant.

Finished, Dragon set the cyber equivalent of a flamethrower to the school network, and watched as every single program deleted itself as the flames touched it. She could have created antibody programs to destroy the dormant code in the student's phones, but she left them. You never know when you might need a backdoor.

Moving forward, Dragon did the only thing she could do, and started tracking down the source of the worms. A number of them were designed to report back to their creator, so she just followed the trail until she found herself in the system of a public library not far from the school.

She studied the list of user accounts, and immediately found the one belonging to Taylor Hebert. She was almost relieved when she read that the account hadn't been active for nearly a month. She didn't want to hurt a poor girl who had experienced more than enough suffering, but she was compelled by her restrictions, and the tinker who infected the school broke the law. If she could find the culprit without breaking the law herself, she had to.

Thankfully, the user accounts were private data. Unless she had probably cause or a warrant, she couldn't outright search them. According to the evidence she found, however, Shadow Stalker had broken the law as well. During her probation no less. Dragon backed out to look at the full list of user accounts, and began compiling her report on the matter.

She could just hand it over to the local PRT branch, and it would be out of her hands. Perhaps those foul children might finally be punished for the way they treated their victim. The texts went back and forth for a few months, and she had to wonder if it had been going on for longer.

She mentally sighed as she finished adding her own commentary to the matter. Hopefully, the Ward's newest probationary member would soon find herself receiving psychological help from a detention facility.

A notification popped up in Dragon's vision and she found the source in her still-loaded arsenal. Her cryptography programs had highlighted an entry in the list of accounts she still had open. The A.I. did the closest thing she could to cringing as she saw the name. "Bart Orlethey" had created their account a few hours ago and had been active since. She had more than probable cause. Dragon couldn't even put up a token resistance as she gained a new set of administrator access rights and logged into the account.

Stupid, arrogant girl. She was seconds away from getting away with it, but she thought she could be clever, and look what that got her. They said that arrogance was the downfall of thinkers, but she could make just as good a case for tinkers as well.

What Dragon saw was an utter and complete match to what had been infecting the school network. The computer the account was being accessed on didn't have a camera attached to it, but the monitor at the next station did, and she used it to take a quick picture. Half of the figure's body cut off, Dragon could just barely make out a slim female sitting at the responsible terminal. Facial recognition took the still and compared it to the young Taylor Hebert from the town hall records and found a tentative match, but it was enough that Dragon had to act on it.

She filled in the gaps she left in her earlier report and read it over. If you just looked at what happened today, and took the code the girl put together at face value, then it was damning. No, she needed to give the report a personal touch is she wanted to help the newfound tinker.

Facial modelling program loading… Complete.

Voice modelling program loading…. Complete.

Redundancy subroutines loading… Complete.

Finding appropriate extension in PRT directory…

Dialing…

"Dragon" the pudgy face of Director Emily Piggot answered on the third ring. She was trying and failing to hide a bitter smile. "Can't get a hold of Armsmaster?"

"No, Director." Dragon replied, molding her rendered face to mimic concern, "I have recently finished an investigation regarding criminal activity perpetrated by one of your Wards. The next step is to involve you in the discussion, as this is related to a parahuman crime."

"I see." Piggot's face grew dark. Her first closed tight around the pen she was holding to the point it looked like it might snap. "Am I going to be surprised by which one?"

Dragon quickly checked over the records of the rest of the wards. If what she gleaned from the paperwork was correct, they were all good kids. The temporal striker on the team had a few infractions, but they were mostly rebellious behavior befitting a boy his age.

"No, I don't think you will."

"God dammit" the Director swore under her breath, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "Go on then."

Dragon proceeded to go through her entire report, displaying on the director's monitor the evidence she compiled side by side with her own analysis. She wanted to leave out who the new tinker was, but her restrictions wouldn't let her keep her mouth shut. By the end of it, Piggot was unable to stay seated, and proceeded to pace behind her desk.

"This concludes my report." Dragon finished, waiting for a response from the eerily quiet woman.

"I guess I don't have much of a choice" Emily finally broke the silence, rubbing her temples. "We'll have to detain Hess and bring the Hebert girl in for questioning."

The phrasing struck a nerve with the A.I., but she kept her "face" placid. "Actually Director, I'd like to suggest another way."

* * *

AN: Hello Young'uns,

First and foremost, thanks for reading. If you see any mistakes above in grammar, formatting, spelling, syntax, and/or word choice, then lease say something! I proofread everything I write, but I'm new to this game, old, and I'm human to boot, so there will most definitely be mistakes that I don't catch. As they are pointed out, I will work harder to make sure they don't show up again.

Thanks and Have a Nice Day,

OMM


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

The building didn't appear to be anything special on the outside. Where the Rig stood out on the horizon with its forcefield and glimmering architecture, the PRT and Ward's HQ fit perfectly into its surroundings. You wouldn't be able to tell that it was anything special if it didn't have the PRT logo on it; just forty to fifty stories of glass and steel. I guess you could point to the large garage and helipad as a distinction, but that didn't scream cape either.

People were just walking by it as if some of the building's residents didn't have the power to freeze time or warp space, but those were only a couple of people. The hundred of normal people that must have been employed here were probably needed to fill out damage reports for the collateral the Protectorate caused. The milling people did make it a lot easier to approach the front door. Not standing out was a blessing. I guess the bustle could make for an easy opportunity to slip in and out unnoticed. I tucked that thought away for later. If I wasn't in jail by the end of today, these would be the kind of things I would have to pay much more attention to.

Did I think I was going to be arrested? Probably not. Why not just send a police cruiser to come pick me up at the library or the house? No, there was something else happening here. On the other hand, the mystery made me more than nervous. More so that my only option was to comply blindly.

When I walked inside through the automatic doors, the interior did not meet my expectations at all. It looked like a mix between a precinct, a lobby, and an amusement park. The two receptionists at the counter against the far wall were chatting with what I suspected was a PRT squad. The combat gear and firearms didn't seem to make them much of a sight here though. The teenagers in the over-stocked gift shop didn't pay them much mind, and an overly peppy tour guide herding a group of tourists didn't even spare the soldiers a second glance as she led the group into one of several elevators set in the back wall behind the counter. I guess being in the same building as capes really underplayed just about everything else. Another thing that I would have to acclimate too.

I moved across the polished floor with my head held high, trying to not seem out of place. When I approached the counter, one of the women talking with the heavily armored team gave them an apology and turned my way. There wasn't any agency in her demeanor. She was laid back, and she looked like she expected me to ask her where the gift shop was.

"Anything I can help you with Miss?" She spoke like I was a lost child.

"I have a 9:00 meeting with the Director. If you would please let her know that I'm here."

The receptionist's face paled at that, and she quickly corrected her posture. She turned to her computer, and clicked away before grabbing her phone, talking quietly enough that I couldn't make out the words. I just stood awkwardly there as she spoke with the person on the other side for a minute, and then put her hand against the phone and leaned forward.

"You're welcome to take a seat, Ms. Hebert. Someone will come down to get you shortly." Was all she said, motioning to the small seating area behind us, before averting her eyes back to her monitor. Fine then. I turned around and found a seat as far away from anyone else as I could. I didn't really feel like striking up a conversation here. I looked over at the magazines sitting on a side table, but realized that there wouldn't be a point and just decided to think about some of the projects my ability had been suggesting. All of them were just pipe dreams though. The intricate machinery I would need for almost anything I could think up was far from my reach.

* * *

"If you will follow me, Miss Hebert." I was forced out of mulling together a power source when an older woman in a business suit appeared next to me. She didn't say another word, getting eye contact before turning on her heels and walking back towards the elevators. I was about to ask for her name when I decided against it. The curtness of her actions were either her personality or instructions, but either way it wasn't really important, so I found myself wordlessly following along and into the elevator that she guided me to. The silver doors closed in front of us, and the noise from the lobby was gone.

The businesswoman held a key-card against a panel, selected one of the higher floors, and stepped back. I could see the floor number changing on the elevator's display, but it didn't feel like we were moving at all. I wondered if another tinker had designed it. I thought about asking the woman, but kept my mouth shut. She might not know I was a cape, just following instructions herself, but I doubted it. Teenagers probably didn't find themselves being escorted into the building that often, so she could probably guess.

The doors soundlessly opened again, and we definitely weren't on the first floor any more. It was a typical office, with the elevator opening to a large corridor that branched off into more offices and hallways. The woman stepped out and began walking purposefully, never hesitating in what looked to be an urban maze. She only turned her head once, and that was to make sure I was following obediently.

We rounded two corners before coming to a conference room. When the woman ushered me in, she didn't follow after, which made me nervous. The rectangular room featured a full floor-to-ceiling window displaying downtown Brockton Bay. It took up the entirety of the opposite wall, and seeing the city this high up, without all of the little details that spoiled the effect, it looked like a beautiful, thriving city. What really caught my attention, however, was the obese woman that sat at the head of the sleek, metal table, a full ream of paper spread out in front of her. Her scowl matched that of the businesswoman that guided me, and I wondered if that was the same expression that all of the men and women that worked here wore.

She made a motion for me to sit, never taking her eyes off of the pages in front of her. It was only when I had taken the chair and ungracefully sat that she tore her eyes away, giving me a look that bled annoyance. Did she deal with this sort of thing often? She straightened her paperwork and finally addressed me.

"Ms. Hebert, I'm glad that you decided to come."

I scoffed at the notion in my head. When my terminal at the library went black and the intructions for today wrote themselves out across the screen, I didn't believe for a second that I had the option to ignore it.

"My name is Emily Piggot, and I'm the overseeing director of the East North East branch of the PRT. I see that your father isn't here. Is he aware of your status?"

Which one? That I was a cape, a criminal, or having a meeting with someone I would otherwise have no business with? I quickly realized how the question was designed to needle me and throw me off balance while she remained in the seat of power. The woman reminded me of the bullies I was used to. No, he still didn't know. I had wrestled with telling Dad everything all night, not that I was getting much sleep anyway, but the fear of his reaction eventually won out.

"No, he is not." I replied simply. It was true for whatever meaning she intended.

"I see. Then allow me to tell you why you're here."

Another jab. We both knew why I was here. She picked up the piece of paper on the top of her stack and began reading.

"Unusual web traffic was observed on the network of Winslow Public High School. When investigated, it became clear that the source was undoubtedly that of a parahuman." She paused to give me a glare before continuing. "The source of the malicious software discovered was tracked down to a newly created user account in a public library, the name of which so happened to be an anagram of your name, Ms. Hebert."

Of course it was the name that got me. Who could have possibly seen it and pieced together that it was an anagram without a hint? I had been careful everywhere else, and apparently this was the crack in my defense that brought the whole thing tumbling down.

"An analysis of the viruses themselves revealed evidence that further cements the idea of your involvement. The intended purpose of the software had the potential to greatly improve your situation at Winslow, and while the code's level of complexity didn't match the level of skill you've displayed in your classes, a recent event that the principle shared with me over the phone involving yourself easily reconciles the differences."

That baffled me. I had made the code so that any interaction with my creations that wasn't their intended target would instantly set off a self-destruct. I could understand them being able to cleanse the system of what I made, but performing an in-depth analysis? It should have been impossible. I made an effort to think of how I would get around the measure myself, but nothing really came to mind. That meant another tinker. If the PRT had tinkers capable of maintaining web security down to the network of a public high school, that was beyond scary.

"The crimes committed include everything from breaches of privacy, blatant breaks in statutes concerning cyber crimes, to the criminal use of a parahuman ability, which is a separate charge on top of everything else."

I lowered my head and thought of the implications. Was I going to jail after all? Just brought here to prove a point before being carted away to the same cell they used to hold the monsters that I heard about every so often? What was Dad's reaction going to be when he found out that not only had I become a parahuman and not told him, but had immediately committed a crime. Would I be considered a villain? I cursed myself for not telling him myself.

The Director cleared her voice to get my attention, and I raised my head far enough to see the slight smirk hiding in the woman's otherwise collected demeanor. Did she even understand the reasons behind what I did? Why I had to do it? My ability started going into overdrive, telling me how I could build something to let me escape, as futile as that was. I tried to raise my voice to try and make her understand, but she was already talking.

"However, as your newfound status puts this case firmly in my jurisdiction, it is up to me how it is handled."

My thoughts froze at that, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"While I will never condone criminal activity, this is a very unique situation. Our investigation also revealed the… environment you have been subjected to. Considering the circumstances that surrounded the ordeal, as well as the fact that no harm was intended, I am willing to dismiss the charges under the pretense of some extremely unorthodox self-defense."

I might have gotten whiplash from how fast I looked up, and I practically blurted out the first thought to came to mind when I ran over what she said in my head.

"You… you said you were willing, not that you would. Is there a price?" Piggot's face finally broke out into a full grin, but there wasn't any kindness there.

"This will be a one-time gift. No strings attached. I have already cleared the paperwork with our lawyers, and I will be signing the documents tonight. It will be all but forgotten after today, you have my word. That does not mean I wouldn't like to offer a suggestion, however. I'm sure you know of the Wards. Joining would be an excellent way to return the favor." She finished before leaning back in her chair. I guess that meant she was done with the pitch.

"And the bullies? Would they be charged for everything they did to me?" I held my breath as she leaned forward.

"Ms. Hebert, there is only so far I can go. Wiping away the charges against you means that we can't use the information we found in a formal court of law. I can have a word with the school, however, to make sure it doesn't go any further."

She might as well as said she wasn't going to do anything at all. Principle Blackwell had promised something of a similar vein during one of the many times I had come to her office. It wouldn't do any good. In fact, the trio had found their revenge many times over. My temper flared a little, but I held out one last hope.

"I don't think you understand," I tried, sounding desperate and tired. "I have been pleading with them for over a year without any change. They already do everything when the teachers can't see. It's just going to be my argument against theirs, and I won't win. I never do."

Piggot's eyes narrowed at that. I suppose I was calling her incompetent in a way, but she obviously didn't get how messed up the whole thing was.

"No, that's not going to work! I know the wards go to Arcadia, aren't you going to transfer me there if I join?"

"No, we are not. The movement would be to obvious. For the exact reason you mentioned, if you were to transfer to Arcadia, where the waitlist is already staggering, and a new Ward appeared with your general appearance, it would be more than conspicuous. We have had Wards attend Winslow in the past, and they will be able to accommodate you there. Let me assure you, I will be speaking with the school so that the harassment ceases permanently. If you do decide to join the Wards, we can revisit the transfer at the start of the next school year when no one will pay it any mind."

My temper flared to life as she basically admitted that nothing would happen. Her words would do nothing. Even after becoming a cape, I was still powerless against my daily tormentors. Talking to the school? Pointless. If my pleading did nothing after a year and a half, it wouldn't change now. And then I would have to wait half a year for an actual solution? Fuck that.

I looked down at the fists I had clenched in my lap and began to think about exactly what was happening. I took a moment to calm down, think through everything, and finally made my decision.

"I refuse."

* * *

"And then she got up, walked out, and slammed the door behind her!" Piggot raged at her computer, snapping the second pencil of the video call. She threw the pieces away, and stared down the one she deemed responsible." Dragon held her ground, analyzing everything the Director had repeated. When she got the call request, she had thought that Piggot was going to thank her, but this was just the opposite. Piggot was furious, and apparently the tinker was too.

"And due to your wonderful suggestion, thanks for that again, I also don't have a single scrap of leverage to use now."

Dragon winced. The girl had appeared to be the type that would respond well to the approach, but she had missed something crucial. Moving Shadow Stalker out of the Wards before Taylor moved in so that they would never meet would have been manageable, but apparently the damage had already been done, which was actually no fault of her own.

"You realize the school's staff must be intentionally ignoring the situation due to Hess' status." Dragon responded defensively.

"I knew that as soon as you told me the situation. Those idiots! When I told them to be lenient, this is not what I meant by any stretch of the imagination. Absolute morons! Of course the girl didn't believe me. She must think they approve!" Another pencil snapped, and Dragon watched the woman become even more infuriated at the sight before picking another from a full cup on her desk. Her secretary must have to refill it often.

Dragon had to admit that her approach to fix the problem without outing Hess did seem like a hard sell. The other alternative was still worse though, as inducting the tinker into the Wards by using the committed crimes as leverage and/or revealing Shadow Stalker's identity would likely produce a much worse result. She would instantly treat the PRT and Wards as if they were personally responsible for her treatment, which they were, in part. That Hess had been able to keep this up for over a year spoke volumes to the incompetency of the handler assigned to her.

Having Piggot handle the conversation in the first place was a mistake, but she could only move forward now. At least the Director wasn't going to go back on her word. The A.I. would have to simply hope that Taylor Hebert would see the sincerity in their actions and not do anything rash before she could get someone else to talk to the girl.


	5. Chapter 5: Knock Knock

Chapter 5: Knock Knock

* * *

The bus ride home was uneventful, but it gave me plenty of time to think through my options.

Becoming a Ward was still open, but after waltzing out on the Director of the PRT after she brushed what I did under the rug, any future relationship was going to be tense at best, hostile at worst. Maybe if I had taken more time to explain why her plan wasn't going to work… And now that they know who I am… No, what's done is done.

I could try to join a team that isn't affiliated with the protectorate. New Wave was the only one in the Bay, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it wasn't really feasible. Besides the fact that the entirety of New Wave was a family by blood, they just flat out didn't have secret identities. They could manage it because everyone had powers, but what about Dad? No, his safety was more important.

I could try to be an independent hero. True to the title, I would be without resources, tools, and everything else that came with the support of a team. Definitely not ideal, but what better option did I have if I wanted to be a hero?

I could work behind the scenes without anyone being the wiser. Seeing as the internet and cell networks were being pretty thoroughly monitored, I would have to work on the physical side of things. I could definitely make something discreet, maybe even design it to alter how light was diffracted around it…

I spent the rest of the ride dreaming up how I could be a hero. I was limited in so many ways, sure, but it was possible.

It began to snow just before I got to my stop, but that was a small blessing in and of itself. The hoodie I was wearing would keep me relatively warm and dry, and any gangbangers that might be lurking around would probably try to get indoors.

It was kind of funny how I felt safer in the poorer parts of Brockton Bay than in the middle of downtown. This area was where I lived, and the familiarity provided comfort. Gangs were easier to predict than bureaucrats.

It didn't take long before I was climbing the steps of the house, peeling off my wet clothes in my room, and grabbing a quick shower before finding something else to put on. It was Saturday, but that didn't mean Dad wasn't at work, so I found myself alone in my room on a cold day. Prior to all this, I would have just found my latest acquisition from the library and curled up on my bed to read with the snow in the background, but things were different now.

I found myself sitting on my bed, my electric alarm clock in my lap, carefully taking it apart. I laid it all out, thinking of what I could build with it, but it wasn't enough - just a display, wiring, a small speaker, and a board that ran the whole thing. Barely anything useful.

I sighed, putting the pieces aside before getting up and heading downstairs. I started taking a screwdriver to the TV before I stopped myself and tried to put it back together; I failed, miserably. I wasn't paying any attention to how things were when I started pulling them apart, and now I was lost.

Some tinker I was, not even able to put the TV back together. I tried to focus on it, but all I could think of was a pocket-sized hologram projector. I could build _that_ if I could find an appropriate lense and reprogram the board, but the box in front of me remained a mystery, and I had to stumble through putting the connections together that looked right. Why didn't they color code the inside?

Trying to turn it on proved fruitless, and messing with the interior more only made it worse, so I finally just closed it up, trying to think up a way to explain it to Dad. I couldn't really think of anything that sounded remotely believable. Crap.

I spent a good part of the day like that, just walking around the house, gently opening up any of the electronics we had and resisting the urge to start ripping everything to shreds for something to work with. Maybe if the weather's nice tomorrow I could go to the junkyard and scavenge…

I was gingerly poking around the back of the oven when I heard the sound of an engine shutting off followed by a car door opening and closing. I almost banged my head trying to get off the floor, moving as fast as I could to get the electrical cover back in place. Dad was early, or was he? What was the time again?

Instead of Dad, though, there was a knock at the Door, and I moved over to look through the peephole. I cursed under my breath before unlocking the door and opening it.

"Hi," The teen at my doorstep waved. While the heavy jacket and pants he was wearing weren't strange, the helmet and red visor being hidden under the jacket's hood were a dead giveaway.

"I'm Kid Win, can I come in? It's really cold out."

I yanked him inside and slammed the door after him.

* * *

"And no one saw you?" I inquired, setting down his water on our old dining table before going back to the kitchen to get my tea. In the meantime, Kid Win had shrugged off his disguise, showing off the flashy red and gold costume he was known for, complete with utility belt and a strange looking gun at his hip.

"Positive. Jerry, the agent in the car, is in civilian clothes, we drove a nondescript car, and I kept my head down the whole way. Completely inconspicuous" He kept his voice confident, his back straight, in a way that looked more forced than voluntary. It was kind of funny, considering how we were probably close in age, but the visor made it hard to tell.

With everything he was doing to look the part, I could tell he was still nervous. Not that I wasn't nervous myself. I sank into the chair opposite, taking a moment to go over everything he said. Taking a sip of my tea gave me an extra second to process everything and calm down. Apparently my relationship with the PRT wasn't as bad as I thought if they were going to this much trouble.

"I assume Director Piggot has sent you to change my mind then?"

"Well, more like to continue the conversation. The decision to join is still yours at the end of the day, but the Director said you walked out before she could offer any other solutions, so they sent me. Tinker to tinker."

Didn't know he was a tinker. I really needed to get up to speed on the locals if I wasn't going to make a fool of myself.

"And what solutions would those be exactly? I believe Piggot made it very clear that the best she could do was a phone call, and words alone have done very little for me over the past year and a half."

The Ward frowned a little at that, but it was hard to judge the rest of his reaction with the red visor covering the majority of his face.

"As someone who is very familiar with the Director's words, they are more often than not followed by action. She can also be a little… insistent at times. There are definitely other options. If that really isn't good enough, what about being homeschooled for the rest of the year?"

I raised my own eyebrows at that one. "You may not have noticed, but my family isn't exactly in a spot where my dad could just quit his job."

He winced a little at that, but didn't miss a beat.

"Speaking of your father, the Director mentioned that you came to the meeting without him. Does he know you're a cape?"

"No, he doesn't." Were they going to tell him anyway?

"Do you plan on it?"

Wouldn't I like to know. We sat in silence for a few more moments before I could come up with a reply that I was comfortable with.

"Eventually."

He didn't seem very satisfied with the answer either.

"I just ask because, well, joining the Wards means he's going to find out. There's a mountain of paperwork that he'd have to sign as your guardian. I just thought I would let you know."

I guess that makes sense. I would preferably do it before he could think that I was only telling him to get myself into the Wards. I would have to think over more of this later.

"You said there were more options?"

"Yeah, I mean, if not homeschooling, maybe you could do online classes. The PRT could set up tutors for you. That's everything they told me, unless they can somehow move things around for you to go to Clarendon, but that's all the way on the other side of town, and…" I stopped him there. He was sounding a little too desperate.

"I get it, I may have overreacted earlier today."

"As long as you know we aren't just hanging you out to dry, mission accomplished." Kid Win smiled at that, and I let myself smile a little in return.

"Now that that's over with…" I watched as the teen reached over to his belt and withdrew a circular disk and placed it on the table. "We can talk about the more exciting reasons for joining."

He started to pick the disk apart, using tools from the other side of his belt. As he laid them out, I could identify the pieces for what they did, once again drawing on knowledge that I never remembered learning. I started pointing them out.

"And that's an antigrav panel, with… does that crystal act as the computer chip?"

"Yeah, I had to order it from another tinker."

"And that's a camera, with what looks like a wireless interface module, so…. A remote controlled camera drone?" I asked tentatively. For how simple it was, the little frisbee was leagues beyond anything I could make with the stuff around the house.

 _Maybe if I could get my hands on one of those smartphone solar cell chargers, repurpose the…_

"Yup, there goes my shock and awe. I guess I shouldn't be surprised." He mumbled, silently putting it back together, and then using his smartphone to pilot it around the room.

"My point with this is that the Wards will be able to fund what you want to build. You could look up other tinker's work, get the support you need." The little drone took an extra lap before landing in Kid Win's hand. "And then they pay you for it."

That sounded so amazing… And if they could get me out of Winslow…

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another car engine stopping in front of the house. Barring another surprise visit, probably Dad getting home from work. Of course he's early. This would probably be a good time to tell him, I think. Oh crap, I haven't even started on dinner yet.

Then there was shouting, as more than one car door opened and slammed shut. Kid Win reacted far faster than I did, getting up from his seat and running to the window that faced the street. He didn't even stay at the window for a second before he started moving back towards me.

" _Shit_ ," He cursed under his breath. "Taylor, we've got to move. Right now, come on!" He grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the window and towards the back of the house. He held a hand up to the side of his helmet, as he yanked open the back door and we moved to the small backyard.

"This is Kid Win, requesting emergency backup at my coordinates. Armed ABB members have a PRT agent surrounded. I am with Taylor Hebert, and we are attempting to escape on foot. Oni Lee is here, I repeat, Oni Lee is here."

We were coming up on the fence, and with a little help from each other we managed to get over the rotting wood silently, Kid Win giving more details to someone I couldn't hear. The sound of automatic fire filled the air for a moment, and my ability went into overdrive.

 _Responsive force fields the size of quarters to protect from bullet fire..._

 _Mimetic scales for faux-invisibility…_

 _NOT NOW!_

I forced myself to put that in the back of my mind. My ability couldn't help me here, and keeping my attention on what I was actually doing was much more important.

"Audible automatic fire. PRT agent is likely down." Kid Win whispered, pulling me towards the next fence. I looked back for only a moment at my house. Coming around the side of the house was a man in a black bodysuit and a demon mask searching for something, and then he saw us.

I tugged Kid Win's arm, and he turned around to say something before seeing the same thing.

"Fuck. What's the ETA on backup?!" We moving towards the next fence, Kid Win pulling his gun from his belt and firing it wildly behind him, spitting out blue lasers instead of conventional ammo.

All I could do was run, trying to keep up with the Ward who was decently outpacing me. Damn it was cold. I hadn't gotten anything warm to put on before we ran, and the t-shirt I was wearing did very little to protect from the cold.

I chanced a look over my shoulder after Kid Win helped me over the next fence and then tried to vault it himself with his free hand. The man with the demon mask had disappeared. He wasn't chasing us? With any luck, maybe we could get away while there wasn't anyone to see us.

My eyes went wide As I turned back around to start running again, my eyes went wide: the Demon Masked figure was somehow standing under the awning of the same yard we were in. Kid Win started firing again, and one shot looked like it landed, but it hardly seemed to matter. He was running at us, and I could see what looked like an assortment of knives on his belt and grenades attached to a bandolier. My feet slipped as I tried to stop, falling to the grass and then trying frantically to get to my feet to start running again.

Kid Win pulled a small white marble from his belt and threw it at the ground, and it exploded violently into a cloud of heavy white smoke, blinding me as I finally got to my feet. I felt Kid Win's hand on my arm again, as he pulled me back the way we came and pushed me toward the fence. I climbed over, scratching myself on the wet wood in my literal blind panic, falling gracelessly to the other side, scrambling to move away.

I managed to get out of the smoke, turning around to see the demon walk out of the fog with a knife in-hand. I didn't make it very far before something hit me hard enough on the back of the head. The ground started rapidly approaching before everything went black.

* * *

AN:

Sorry for the delay.

Part of this chapter is very similar to Worm Sentinel 9.4, I know. This will hopefully be the closest this story gets to canon.

If you see any mistakes or have any constructive criticism, please speak up.

Thanks again to Blessed Yet Damned for his amazing editing skills.

Thanks and Have a Nice Day,  
OMM


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